


The Wedding Day

by BistaUss



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, February Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BistaUss/pseuds/BistaUss
Summary: In which Belle makes it back to her father after Rumple kicks her out, Gaston was never turned into a rose and she decides to go ahead and marry him. For the prompt, "I dare you."





	1. Chapter 1

Belle gazed at her reflection, sighing deeply. The gown was a similar design to most of her ball gowns, only set apart by its pure white color. She supposed she should feel excited, it was her wedding day after all, but at best she could just muster up a half hearted smile. Gaston wasn’t the last person on earth she would marry, but he wasn’t the first either. She stomped down on that train of thought quickly. It wouldn’t do to dwell on him today. Belle took a long deep breath, plastered that smile on her face, and turned from the mirror.

Her father was standing just beyond the door waiting for her. When she emerged and he saw her, he seemed to swell with pride. “You look beautiful, Belle,” Maurice told her, taking her hands with a huge smile. 

She tried to return his enthusiasm, to be happy at least that he was happy. “Thank you, Papa.”

“I had come to fear I would never see this day,” he said, and Belle tried to conceal her wince.

“Well, it’s here,” was the best she could come up with, and she gave his hands a squeeze while lowering her gaze, hoping he didn’t notice her discomfort. All he’d managed to do was make her remember what, or rather who, had disrupted the wedding plans the first time around. The last thing she wanted was to have him on her mind.

“Yes, it has, thank the gods,” her father said, oblivious as he often was. This time she was grateful. Maurice tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they made their way down the corridor, heading for the main hall, for her wedding. He carried on, saying, “Gaston will make a fine husband, he’ll take excellent care of you.” Belle’s teeth clenched involuntarily. He’d said much the same all that time ago, when he’d first attempted to arrange the match. Back when the biggest reason she had to refuse Gaston was that he bored her to tears. Not like now, now that she felt -

“I’m sure he will,” she said, hurriedly cutting her own inner musings short. Her mind was running amok today. She’d been able to return to her old life so well, but today, today was different.

They approached the grand doors that would lead her to her new life, her husband, and she suddenly felt short of breath. Her hand tightened on her father’s arm, and he glanced at her, still all smiles, clearly thinking her overcome with joy. She forced her lips into a smile that felt more like a grimace, but Maurice was opening the doors and then they were in the hall. There was a rustle as the gathered mass of people turned to watch their stately march down the aisle. Ahead was Gaston, already looking at her with a proprietary smirk she could see even from the distance. Belle fixed her gaze on her feet, trying to keep her breathing steady. She didn’t know why her body was rebelling now, but she kept putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in and out, until after what seemed like no time at all, Maurice was pulling her hand from his arm, kissing her cheek, and laying her fingers on Gaston’s palm. She raised her eyes, meeting Gaston’s gaze. He looked at her the same way he always had, like a trophy, but now he had won.

Belle could feel her heart pounding, could barely hear the words the priest was speaking over the roaring in her ears. This wasn’t right, she knew it, and she couldn’t go through with it. She had to get away, had to put a stop to this whole charade. Gaston wasn’t right for her, he wasn’t her true love, that was -

This time she couldn’t stop herself from thinking his name. ‘Rumplestiltskin.’ It was barely a whisper of a thought, and she had to close her eyes again.

“Well now, this is quite a to do!”

Belle’s eyes flew open and she whipped around, convinced she had imagined that voice. But no, there he was, in all his leather clad glory. Rumplestiltskin stood just feet away from the not quite yet married couple, grinning in his most impish way, his hands steepled in front of his face, and his eyes fixed on her.

Her throat closed with too many emotions to count, but before she could even try to speak, Gaston, just has he had that first night, shoved himself between Belle and the Dark One. “How dare you!” he yelled, reaching for his sword, but a snap of Rumplestiltskin’s fingers froze Gaston’s hand just short of the hilt.

“Still more brawn than brains on this one, I see,” Rumplestiltskin commented, his eyes sliding from the blustering knight to Belle. “He’s clearly forgotten the terms of the deal you and I made. You were to come with me forever, and yet here you stand. Surely you understand my confusion.”

Belle could barely keep her jaw from dropping. He was offering her the way out. He would take her back to his castle, away from this terrible mistake she was about to make. He was at his most theatrical so she couldn’t get a sense of his real feelings, but the fact that he had come at all gave her hope. She looked Maurice, her poor stricken papa, and knew she’d have to find some way to explain it all to him at some point. But for now…

Rumplestiltskin had extended a hand, and without a second thought, she took it, and they were gone.

***

He had his back to her when they materialized at the Dark Castle, and he released her hand and immediately started walking away from her. “There are some clothes in your old room, if you’d like to get changed then we can -” He was abruptly cut off by something hitting him square in the back of the head. Surprised, he turned. Belle was standing barefoot, a shoe in hand, the other on the ground beside him, having just bounced off him. His eyebrows lifted in utter shock, but then he narrowed his eyes. “I dare you.”

Belle flung the second shoe straight at his face. Of course he caught it just short of his nose, but she still felt a bit better. “We have a lot of talking to do.”


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well you guys wanted more so apparently I'm sticking around in this story for a while. Still drawing inspiration from the prompt challenge so this chapter uses the prompt "Are you ever going to forgive me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone who left comments on the first chapter really made me want to continue this little tale, so thanks to all of you!

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t been able to act nonchalant around Belle for quite some time, so he didn’t bother trying. After the shoe throwing, she had gone off to her old chambers, and Rumple stayed in the great hall, sitting at his wheel. He wasn’t spinning, just staring at nothing in particular, though he was acutely aware of the doorway which she would come through, should she come back tonight. He wasn’t at all certain she would. Frankly he’d been amazed that she had come with him from her wedding, though even that must be preferable to marrying that buffoon of a fiance she couldn’t seem to shake. But he’d heard the plea in her mental tone when she thought his name, which was confusing in and of itself as he’d only ever been summoned by spoken words before that, and he reacted without thinking. Whatever happened next, he felt fairly confident he had done the right thing, getting her away from there.

His musings were interrupted when Belle entered the hall. He thought his heart might stop, seeing her back in this room, in that same blue dress. For a moment, it was as though nothing had changed. But when Rumplestiltskin rose from his seat and she looked at him, her gaze was hard. He swallowed through a suddenly tight throat, then snapped his fingers and the tea set appeared on the table. Belle lifted an eyebrow, and he felt as though he heard the question without her having to voice it. “You’re not my servant, Belle. No need to fetch tea for me now.”

She pursed her lips, moving to the table and pouring herself a cup. “I wasn’t sure, since you reminded me of that deal we made.” She’d automatically poured a second cup as she spoke, he saw, so he cautiously approached. Belle set the teapot down, but kept her eyes on the cups. “So if I’m not your servant, exactly what am I?”

Rumplestiltskin took a cup of tea, if only to occupy his hands, which felt dangerously close to being fidgety. “You’re my guest,” he replied softly, not quite looking at her. “For as long as you want.”

Belle took a sip from her own cup of tea before commenting, “So all that talk back there about the deal, just a ruse?”

Their eyes met. “Of course it was a ruse,” he said, unable to stop from adding, “You were the one who called me for help, I had to think of something to say.”

Her jaw dropped. “I did no such thing!”

Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes slightly. “Oh, so you weren’t thinking how Gaston was completely wrong for you and you shouldn’t be marrying him? Just before you called for me?” 

“I didn’t -” Belle cut herself off, realizing that he was right. “But I didn’t say your name out loud, how could you possibly have heard me?”

“That, I cannot answer.” Her eyes flashed and he winced internally. She suspected he was lying, and why shouldn’t she? “I promise, Belle, I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is that I heard you, and I answered. And here we are.”

Belle took a deep breath and set down her cup, leveling him with a serious look. “I meant what I said earlier, about having a lot of talking to do.” He nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. She held up a hand. “But I don’t think we should do it tonight. I’d rather have a good night’s rest before that conversation.” He nodded again, understanding. The days leading up to that farce of a wedding couldn’t have been relaxing for her. “So I’ll see you in the morning.”

She made her way to the door, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Belle?” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Do you think...are you ever going to forgive me?” They might not go through the whole ordeal right this moment, but he had to ask nonetheless. Had to get an idea of where he stood.

Belle looked at the floor, then back at him. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Let’s see what the morning brings.” She turned away. “Goodnight Rumple.”

“Goodnight, Belle,” Rumplestiltskin murmured. He stared down at his cup, at the tiny chip in the rim, and tried to feel hope.


	3. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Rumple have a conversation

Belle was tense.

She wasn’t angry, not anymore. Truth be told, she hadn’t truly been angry with Rumple for some time. Mostly, once the initial anger had worn off she had just been hurt and disappointed.

But since he’d come to her rescue the previous day, truly that’s what it had been, a rescue, she had grown confused. All she knew for certain was, back then, he’d seen the proof of her love and had thrown it away. She thought she knew him well enough to guess that there was a deeper reason than his initial assumption that she was working for his enemy. She intended to find out what that reason was. 

It would not be easy. Rumplestiltskin was a difficult man to talk to in the best of circumstances, and she had a hunch that today would not fall under that category.

So Belle may have stalled, just a little, taking extra time to brush out her hair and occasionally rolling her neck and shoulders, trying to ease some of that tension.

When she went down to the hall, she was not surprised to find him at his spinning wheel. Tea was laid out on the table, so she made her way into the room. “Good morning,” she said politely. 

“Morning,” he replied, his voice just as careful. Belle didn’t look at him, just busied herself pouring out some tea, but she heard the wheel come slowly to a stop. He was across the table when she looked up, and for a moment she was struck by the sight of him. The day before he’d been dressed in his usual dealing attire, what she’d come to know in her time with him as mostly a facade. Now he was dressed quite simply, pants and shirt and waistcoat, the way he’d often dressed when they were alone. Belle had never thought of it before, but she realized now that she preferred seeing him this way, as if those layers of his outside presentation had been peeled away, and she got to see just a little of the man inside. 

Rumplestiltskin took his seat, and she mirrored him, smoothing her skirt over her legs. There was a curious look in his eye that confused her, until a memory of sitting on this very table came back to her. She’d started doing that when they’d become friends, she recalled. Now she was being more formal, and he minded.

_Well_ , she thought, sipping her tea, _If my sitting in the chair instead of on the table is the worst part of this conversation we’ll be lucky indeed._

“I trust you slept well?” he asked, bringing his teacup to his lips.

“I did, thank you,” she replied automatically, her eyes on the cup, the chipped rim. “You still have it.”

Rumple’s gaze flicked down, then back to her. He gently placed the cup on the table. “Yes, I still have it.” His voice was cautious, almost pained.

Belle didn’t ask why, fairly certain she knew the answer, so she looked down into her own cup and said, “Are you going to tell me the truth now?” She looked back up at him, and his face was pained now, but she pressed on. “I want to know the real reason you made me leave. I don’t want to hear any more guff about your power being more important. I knew that was a lie when you said it. But there is more to it, and I need to know.”

Rumplestiltskin’s hands clenched and unclenched. “The short version is that I cannot lose my power, or I’ll lose my only chance to be reunited with my son.” The words had a rehearsed feeling, not as if they were a lie, but as if he’d had to work himself up to say them so he’d practiced it over and over.

Belle’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I think you’ll need to elaborate on that,” she said slowly.

His gaze turned inward, and the sigh that came from him seemed to come straight from the depths of his soul. “When I first became the Dark One,” he began, not meeting her eyes, “I thought keeping my son safe was all I wanted. I knew I needed more power to keep him truly safe, so most of my time was spent in pursuit of that. After a time, he wanted me to rid myself of my curse. He told me he would find a way to do it, so we could be a family again. I never imagined he would actually find it, so I agreed, I promised I would go along with his little scheme. When he came to me with a magic bean that would take us to a land without magic, at first I thought I could handle that. But faced with the reality of it, I couldn’t. I was too cowardly. And I let him go through that portal alone.”

Belle felt as though she couldn’t breathe.

“The moment he was gone, I regretted it. But of course it was too late. There were no more magic beans to send me the same way he had gone. I had to come up with a plan. And I have spent the last 300 years influencing events to lead me to my chance, to get me where I am now. If I were to lose my powers, I would lose everything. Everything I’ve worked towards for centuries would vanish, and I would never see my son again. Can you understand that, Belle?”

She inhaled shakily. “Enough to understand your reaction, yes, I can.”

“So there you have it,” he said, with a small wave of his hands. “That’s my story. That is why I pushed you away. I cannot lose my chance.” He met her eyes, and gave a shrug. “Where shall we go from here?”

Belle looked down, took a deep breath, and looked back up at him. “I love you,” she said. His face stayed stoic but she could see the light in his eyes. “I still think you should have been honest with me before, but the past is the past, and now we have to go forward.” She reached out a hand and couldn’t help but smile when he took it. 

“Belle,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for what I did.”

She placed her other hand atop his and squeezed gently. “Apology accepted,” she replied, and he managed a small smile. “Now, I want you to tell me what I can do to help you find your son.”


End file.
